Unbelievable
by Miss Pennyfeather
Summary: One night in the lonely castle, Ron and Pansy cross paths, both fed up with people around them and their unsatisfactory lives. What comes out of it? Something unbelievable.
1. Chapter 1

_**So, new fic because I'm currently sort of obsessed with Ron/Pansy pairing. I think it's quite fascinating and they'd actually work (insane me, overly romantic me, but seriously don't they seem like an interesting pair?). Anyway, maybe I won't leave it just a one-shot if my obsession doesn't wear off. Anyway, hope you like it and please tell me what you think :) **_

_**Unbelievable**_

_*****  
**_

Unbelievable. Hermione was going to Slughorn's party with snotty McLaggen. After pining after her for so much time she didn't even have the sense to notice!

Sure he had been maybe, just maybe slightly acrid and rude around her but she just bloody pissed him off with her inaccessibleness.

After the Quidditch game she hadn't run to him to congratulate him, even though Harry hadn't slipped Felix Felicis into his drink. She just blatantly believed it was all a Placebo. She couldn't believe in him or have the confidence that maybe for once he could do something right (in her eyes).

It was all useless; trying to get to the Hermione Granger beyond that cold barrier. Because she didn't want him.

Perhaps he had been a fool not to accept Lavender when she practically threw herself on him, but the girl gave him a bad feeling. She only liked him for someone she believed he was, someone entirely different. Even _he_ had noticed that.

And just because, just because girls had swarmed around him after the game Hermione had got so bloody upset. What was he to do? Abandon all those people and go running off after her? Okay, maybe he had flirted, okay maybe he had enjoyed it, but he would have loved to have her in his arms after the game…not some bloody Hufflepuff.

Needless to say he felt wronged by the one girl he really fancied.

Tonight he was alone. Harry and Hermione had gone to that pompous event for prancing prats, Slughorn's party. Tonight he was sitting by the fireside frustrated and alone.

Well – he'd go out. He couldn't stand the solitude. He couldn't stand being left out, like the third wheel.

* * *

Unbelievable. Draco had left her to go off on some expedition, God knew where!

She had a slight suspicion he wanted to crash Slughorn's party but that was just infantile! Sure, the man had been hatefully rude not to invite them, but did it matter anymore? In these times, no one dared to tell _them_ anything anymore… The Slytherins, in particular her and Malfoy, were like the plague, avoided and shunned. And all because of her bloody parents and their bloody fancy for the Dark Lord! She wanted nothing to do with it, she wanted to erase the Parkinson name. Oh, but she wanted the beauty, the money, the jewels, the dresses…but not the name, oh no, not the name.

She wasn't used to this desolation and loneliness. She wanted friends, friends, friends! But she was a Parkinson. Of course she was avoided.

She only had Millicent now, but guess what! Millicent had gone with Blaise to that insufferable party.

Needless to say she felt wronged, though she knew she couldn't point her finger at anyone, per se.

And now she was waiting for Draco? Who knew. He usually came back quite late. And he almost never kissed her goodnight. In fact, he hadn't kissed her properly in two weeks. They never held hands, he was never kind or at least nice to her, he was always busy, always in pain and when she tried to get to him, to try and comfort him he just blew her off, because apparently she couldn't understand!

As if they weren't the same mud and water.

Well – she'd go out. She couldn't stand the solitude. She couldn't stand always being left behind and taken for granted.

* * *

He was feeling bold, though he had no idea why. He just felt he could do anything tonight. He wanted to do everything. He wanted to forget all about Hermione and her bloody frizzy, soft, curly hair, her honey eyes, her slender legs…

And he wanted to forget all about himself and who he was; Harry Potter's sidekick.

It wasn't worth the bother.

Without even noticing, he was going towards Slughorn's office, where the party was taking place. It must have been subconscious.

He cursed under his breath and was about to turn back when he saw a figure coming up. He dashed in the bathroom, not wanting to be seen there.

A curtain of silky blonde hair and two cold black eyes, a stupid, pug face…and a very, very short skirt. Pansy Parkinson.

What was she doing here?

Before he could come out though, he saw Slughorn's door opening and Neville coming out with a large empty tray. Pansy quickly ducked in the bathroom as well and shut the door behind her, almost crashing into Ron in the process.

'Weasley! What are you doing here?' she asked surprised, scowling.

'Gee, Parkinson, I'm here to wet the roses. What the hell were you doing? Trying to get into Slughorn's party?'

'None of your business, Weasel face. And I wouldn't dare step into that ridiculous place.'

'Funny, it suits you and your pasty boyfriend.'

Pansy smirked and ran a hand through her hair.

'Oh, yeah? Then what's your little girlfriend Granger doing there?'

'Shut up.'

'Oh, she's there with someone else, how sad!' she said chuckling. 'Poor, little Weasel left all alone.'

'Why don't you sod off Parkinson? I'm sure Malfoy needs his shoes cleaned,' he said treading towards her angrily.

'Is that the best you can do, Weasel?' she said scowling again. Her hands were placed on her hips imposingly. 'Malfoy is twice the man you'll ever be.'

Ron was furious, though he really didn't know why. It's not as if Pansy had insulted him or _could_ insult him, but her own presence there, in that ever so short skirt, with that grazing smirk and those cunning eyes, mocking him, telling him that Ferret face was better than him drove him nuts. It was too much for him, it's like someone telling him McLaggen was better than him and that git was just as disgusting as Malfoy.

'Oh yeah?' he said almost pushing her against the wall. 'So being V-Voldemort's little bitch makes him a real man?'

'Don't talk like that about him!'

'I'll talk just as I like Parkinson,' he almost bellowed.

'I'm tired of your retarded rant Weasel-face.'

'Stop calling me that, pug-face!'

'Or what?'

Her eyes were almost sparking venom and his blue eyes were piercing her skull. Their hate was almost tangible; a thin, red line of pure hates emanating from their bodies. He loomed over her menacingly as she twisted her body, ready to slap him.

She was provoking him, she wanted him to know she didn't care what he did or thought, she was going to do it anyway, she was going to defeat him.

He wouldn't allow it, he would _make_ her care about his actions and thoughts.

Without waiting he grabbed her hair and kissed her roughly on the lips, crushing his body over hers.

Pansy flickered her eyes open in astonishment and tried moving away from his grasp, but to no avail, she could barely oppose. He was so strong that she was starting to reconsider belittling him. He was _unquestionably_ strong. She had never guessed he could hold a person like that._ She_ had never been held like that. _No one _dared grab her like that, not even Draco. She had never thought she _could_ be held like that.

He towered over her mercilessly and she was helpless…and she liked the twisted feeling. She liked feeling like weak porcelain under his hands, she relished in the thought that he could break her in an instant.

She closed her eyes and let the kiss sink in, partly opening her lips. After a long time without receiving affection, this hateful kiss did wonders.

She grabbed the collars of his shirt and drew him to her as he snaked an arm round her waist and pulled her to him roughly. He couldn't get enough of her. He was intoxicated with her smell: cheap perfume, hair dye…and something else, something so intimate that he couldn't define it. Her dirty blonde hair was not soft like Hermione's but rough and tangled and he enjoyed that…he couldn't get his hand out of it.

He never thought anyone could respond to him like that, so _violently_, so _desperately_. He never thought he would find her so wild, so frustratingly flawed, so _unlike_ the girl of his dreams. And he loved it. He couldn't get enough of it.

His hands were warm and firm and hers were cold and deceiving.

Pansy felt like she was going to scream because she wanted him to go on and on, without end.

She loved the feeling of being dominated. He loved the feeling of dominating.

She was slammed into the wall and the game continued, even if she could barely breathe.

He bit into the skin of her neck making her shout in pain. She sank her long nails into his white collarbone, making him moan in agony. It was still a war, a dangerous, addictive war.

He bruised her pale, ivory skin, she left him bleeding scars. They battled each other with equal strength.

For one night, if only for one night they'd let themselves go.

It was insane and mad but there it was. Unbelievable.

* * *

_**Thanks for reading :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**So, you might be surprised I actually updated this, but it's that time of the year again (I know I'm overly using this phrase), I am in my Ron/Pansy phase again. It starts unexpectedly and it lasts a month or so. I just love this couple way too much. So I added a new chapter to this fic, because like one reviewer mentioned (the great _excessivelyperky)_, these two could start their own nefarious affair without anyone ever knowing :D Yeah, my guiltiest pleasure.**

**Anyways, enjoy the corniness while it lasts! And please leave a review, cuz this corniness needs all the encouragement it can get!  
**

When, the following morning, Hermione noticed Ron was inordinately quiet, she began to suspect he was more upset than he was letting on. She was chatting with Harry about Sluhghorn's ball, trying to elicit a reaction from him, but Ron was just sitting there, staring transfixed at his glass of pumpkin juice.

She told Harry, meaning for Ron to hear, that McLaggen had chased her all night, but she had avoided him on purpose. However, they were still planning on going out soon, it's just that she hadn't been in the mood for him that night.

Ron tightened his grip on his fork. Hermione was satisfied to see he was angry about it, but she didn't see that Pansy Parkinson had just entered the Great Hall and that Ron's eyes immediately flew towards her.

Pansy, on the other hand ignored him completely. And Ron, well, he wasn't gazing at her longingly or anything. He had a look of self-loathing on his face, of pure, dreadful regret. He wouldn't have minded stabbing himself with the said fork.

He, who not only believed he loved Hermione, but also had one of the most wanted girls in Hogwarts, Lavender, chasing after him, had kissed Pansy Parkinson the previous night.

And it hadn't been just an innocent peck, not even an inoffensive smooch, it had been an intense, passionate make-out session that had gone completely overboard.

First off, he had never, ever seen the pug-faced girl as anything but a total pain in the ass. Second, he never, ever kissed people like that. Not even in his Hermione-centred dreams, so this new and domineering side of him frightened him.

Third, although it may sound repetitive, he really had never looked on Pansy as an actual girl. Sure he noticed that her outfits tended to be a bit more outrageous than an average school girl's but then every male at Hogwarts was aware of that.

It was not hard to notice her extravagant tastes. It was equally easy to hate them. And he had, up to this point. But when they had jumped each other in that bathroom, he had adored that about her; from her mucky makeup to her long, black nails.

It had been exciting and new for him. Hermione, bless her soul, although a famed hidden beauty, had a habit of making herself most unattractive just when Ron felt most romantic. Also, she always stuck to her natural look which, however becoming, still made him yearn to see more.

Hermione was the safe and wise Puritan, while Pansy was the wicked and cunning Catholic school girl.

He told himself it was hateful what he had done. And that he'd get over it soon enough. All men go through this stage; all of them go for the Catholic school girl before settling down with their true love.

And Hermione was his true love. He even liked Lavender on the sole basis that she reminded him of Hermione.

And Pansy? She was just a stop along the way. Nothing serious or permanent, nothing that could mean something.

In fact, he was worrying too much, because in all earnest, that kiss had meant absolutely nothing. Yes, it had been strange and wild and almost surreal, but a lot of things were like that at Hogwarts. Magic was like that. And he didn't hate magic, did he? Hogwarts was just that kind of place where people went haywire. It's normal for these things to occur from time to time, I mean thousands of teenagers all put into one place?

As the old cliché went, 'sparks would fly'.

So he did not mind it. Self-loathing and everything above, he tried looking away. He tried focusing on what Hermione was telling Harry.

It's not like it was hard to erase her image from his head. She was common looking. Just a petite blonde. That's all. Well, she had some fairy-like traits: slender legs, very short waist, a nose shaped like a puck, a pink and wicked mouth, those freckles lining her thick, dark eyelashes, then those ice-cold, green orbs that were so spiteful and so vicious...

Okay, so she was not very common looking, but certainly there were many girls around here who shared some similarities.

Even Luna Lovegood, for example, looked like her. He averted his gaze towards her. The loony girl was sitting by herself at the Ravenclaw table, holding her spoon in front of her face, trying to stick it to her forehead.

Okay, well then, Hannah Abbott, from Hufflepuff, she looked slightly similar. Hannah, who was now laughing with her mouth full of mashed potatoes. Alright, maybe not.

But then, there was Katie Bell from his own house. Only she was square-chinned and her shoulders were heavier than George's. Also, she had the sex appeal of a squirrel.

At last, he directed his gaze towards the Slytherin table. Surely there was one girl there that shared Pansy's traits. I mean, Slytherin girls were all the same, stuck-up, well-educated, rich sexy kittens.

There was...Millicent Bulstrode, who was shoving her bulky fists into Crabbe's face for having stolen her cupcake. There was Daphne Greengrass who was a tall red-haired girl with a flat chest and a sickly complexion. There was Flora Carrow, who was a mousy-haired girl that wore an emerald, snake-shaped retainer.

And finally, there was Tracey Davis. At last, a blonde just like Pansy. But alas, her hair was soft and curly, the colour of a warm summer wheat field. Also, her eyes were clear and blue. It was the exact opposite of what he saw in Parkinson.

Ron was thus frightened to find out that, in actuality, there was no other cold hard bitch in town. It was just Pansy and he was stuck with her image.

But, the realization that he was doomed came much later.

At first, he just tried ignoring it. Again, he thought it would just go away.

The Christmas Holidays were approaching, so he'd have a break from Hogwarts, from Lavender, from everyone that was a bad influence to him. He'd be able to enjoy himself, by himself.

But before he could cowardly run to his childhood home and find solace in his mother's arms, he had to attend one last Prefect Meeting before the holidays.

And of course, Pansy was a Prefect too so she was there.

Since him and Hermione were Prefects for Gryffindor, they both had to present their ideas for the following semester. Hermione had already written five pages of solid suggestions, but Ron only had a couple of jumbled proposals here and there.

He'd never been responsible before, so Hermione didn't expect him to actually put some effort into those ideas. So for more than half an hour, she presented her suggestions. Ron had sat quietly and impatiently, waiting for her to be done. He knew Pansy was in the room. She was sitting in the front row. He couldn't see her, because he was standing in the back, but once he was called up front to do his own presentation, her presence could no longer be avoided.

She was sitting on a folding chair right in front of the pedestal, wearing her trademark short black skirt and a green V-lined sweater. She also had a black pearl necklace wound around her neck. Her entire face screamed boredom.

She was chewing on her lip annoyed. One of her hands was stuck in her hair, the other one in her lap, playing with her quill. Her legs were crossed.

If Ron crouched a little, he could see...

'Um, good evening everyone,' he started, loosening his tie.

His gaze was drawn to Pansy like a magnet. She, who had previously been playing with her quill, suddenly looked up. The same bored expression did not change, but a glint of interest appeared in her eyes.

She didn't do anything to provoke him. In fact, she stopped moving and sat very still, watching him carefully. So she was not trying to seduce him at all, but for some sick reason, Ron still saw her as a devilish temptress.

As he was trying to get his words together, he saw her getting up from her chair and placing it between her legs, exposing more of her skin as she put one finger in her mouth, biting off the nail.

She then proceeded to play with her pearls in a seductive way, dropping them in her cleavage, then retrieving them and dropping them again. Then she placed them in her mouth and started chewing on them, so that he saw the small black drops between her teeth. She looked like a wild beast tearing apart her prey.

Meanwhile, the real Pansy was sitting calmly in her chair, watching him stutter like an idiot, as his gaze lingered on her V-shaped sweater.

She turned around for a split-second and his dream changed. He saw her getting up from her chair and reaching out to him. She stretched and pulled him by his tie.

And then, all she did was bring his face towards her and bite his ear hard.

Of course, these puerile fantasies meant something. One, that Ron hadn't seen many movies in his life, otherwise he'd have more imaginative dreams, two, that he was clearly not over that intense make-out session.

The thing is, he had enjoyed being in control of her and twisting her body like a toy. Now, she was in control, because he was exposed in front of her, he was put in a ridiculous and embarrassing situation right under her nose and that made him feel a lot less powerful. Not at all domineering and controlling, like he had been in the bathroom. Somewhere in the pits of his stomach, he missed that.

He missed being the tough, bad guy for once. Even Harry was more menacing than he was. So he had enjoyed a moment of total badassery. He envied Pansy for being able to keep that up 24/7.

Even though Pansy was still staring at him placidly, his ear felt like it had been bitten off.

'I propose for next year to increase vigilance on corridors,' he spoke, wiping his sweat. 'There are a lot of students sneaking out at night, hiding behind statues and...'

All of a sudden, a wide smirk spread on Pansy's face. He lost his train of thoughts. She had guessed it. She knew he was attracted to her. It made her smile fully.

'...thinking they won't get caught because patrolling ends at nine, but...we should stretch it,' and at that he swore he saw Pansy stretching her legs, 'to ten or maybe even...' and here Pansy's foot started working its way towards the stage, 'eleven.'

Hermione was giving him odd looks. Ron had actually proposed something sensible and useful. She was truly shocked.

But Ron was only begging to say more. He liked the way Pansy seemed to be imitating whatever he was saying.

'Like I said, students, especially older ones, are experienced,' he began again and at this Pansy titled her head to the side, 'and they know a couple of spells that would make them hard to catch.' At this Pansy placed her elbows on her knees and drew herself towards him, exposing more of her generous chest.

It looked like Ron's puny fantasies were coming true.

'For example...' he said, meaning to enumerate them. But Pansy instantly drew up, straightening her back and folding her arms over her chest.

'I mean no, where's the use in naming them. Then people might get ideas.'

Pansy smiled nodding her head.

'What I mean is, these students know more than we do sometimes. They've lurked around those corridors long enough to know where to hide...'

At this Pansy started twirling a strand of hair around her finger indifferently. She yawned.

'And they'll use this against us,' he continued as he watched Pansy turn her back and lower her body towards her bag that was thrown on the floor. She bent over it, pulling its zipper very loud. Her sweater rose towards her waist and he could see her exposed skin, rising and rising...

She turned around quickly again. She had taken out a piece of paper. She placed her quill in her hand and started jotting down.

'Um, we'll have to look in places we haven't looked before,' he said, coughing loudly.

'What's that last thing you said, Weasley?' Pansy suddenly asked, breaking the still silence of the room.

He stared at her in surprise. He hadn't expected to hear her voice. It sounded like poisonous liquor. It felt like Fire-Whiskey, or something equally awful and strong. Hermione's voice was honey. Hers was alcohol.

'I said we'll have to look in places we haven't looked before,' he retorted a little bit stronger than intended.

Pansy raised a brow.

'No need to get your knickers in a knot, I just asked a question,' she commented.

'And I answered,' he replied stiffly.

'And I am _eternally_ grateful,' she meowed.

After the meeting ended, Hermione went over to Ron to congratulate him for the not-at-all-bad-ideas. He needed some cheering up. He looked like he had been hit by a bus.

'You did well you know, no need to be worried,' she told him, trying to sound detached. 'It passed.'

But Ron was worried, because Pansy was still in the room. She just wouldn't leave.

Hermione left as well, after a while, but Pansy remained. For some horrible reason, she kept to her initial position, as if she was waiting for something.

Ron felt a wild hope grow in his chest. He hoped she was waiting for him.

He hoped she was waiting for them to be alone.

Then he saw Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway and all his hope went away. The moment Pansy saw him, she jumped up and walked towards him briskly.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her away.

Ron sighed, mentally kicking himself. To think he had hoped she would stay.

Her, the tramp, her, the stupid broad, her the dirty...

She came back.

Suddenly, she rushed through the door again.

Ron's heart started beating like wild.

All she said to him was 'nice speech' before opening the cabinet door and pushing him inside. She grabbed his tie, just like he had dreamed, and kissed him roughly on the mouth.

This was her revenge for last night. She was taking the initiative now.

He didn't wait for her to continue all alone. Finally, his chance to be himself, to be that strong, possessive man he had always wanted to be.

He grabbed her waist and pushed her on the small coffee table. It was covered with Quidditch posters and student notices. She kicked them off with her legs.

He sank his hand into that well-known hair. He felt relief and a surge of power. The tangled hair, the hair that never gave in. He liked to pull it. But it wasn't enough. He grabbed her pearl necklace and started tightening it around her neck as he was kissing her. He was smashing his lips against her as if they were a drilling saw.

He wanted to rip her mouth apart, leave it torn.

Pansy almost couldn't breathe. But instead of pushing his hands away from her necklace or fighting to recover her breath, she continued relishing in the breathlessness of the moment.

She was tightening her grip on his tie, he to her necklace. So they were both dying slowly, figuratively speaking.

They stopped only when they heard Draco's voice in the room.

Ron quickly rose from his position and carried her down with him.

'I told him I'd left something in here,' she told him explanatorily.

Ron nodded his head, staring at the door of the small cabinet.

She quickly grabbed one of the notices on the floor.

'Yeah, I was looking for Summer Knitting Camps,' she said, showing him the notice. 'He'll definitely buy that.'

Ron was still quiet.

'Oh, yeah, this didn't mean anything Weasel-face.'

'Fuck off Parkinson, I don't need you telling me anything. You mean less than bollocks to me.'

'Go wank yourself off. You _sorely _need it,' she replied tapping his chin lightly with her sharp, black nails.

With that, she left the cabinet and rushed to Draco's side.

Ron's body slumped into one of the small stools in the crammed room.

He was in trouble.

He knew that. Oh, how he knew. This was no small crush on Celestina Warbeck when he was seven. This wasn't his Witches Illustrated phase when he was thirteen.

He'd definitely not be able to keep her out of his mind, not even at the Burrow.

It was unbelievable.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, time for another shameful update to my (not so) secret guilty-pleasure. This chapter is so corny you might choke, but it's Ron and Pansy, how can it _not_ get that way?**

**Wanted to thank all the reviewers for the kind words, I appreciate you liking this story, despite its general silliness :) I am such a cheap writer sometimes, but I can't help it, these two bring out a very corny side of me. So without further ado, I give you the third chapter into the epic Ron and Pansy heated romance.**

* * *

All throughout Christmas, he felt he would explode. He would burst out in a frustrated shout of disbelief. He, Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor extraordinaire, was lusting after the vile Slytherin girl.

The problem was that Pansy had given him power. All the girls he'd known, including dear, sweet Hermione, had taken power away. They'd all been somewhere high, above him in every possible way, staring down at him and demanding that he change, that he mature, that he give them his full attention, that he satisfy their wishes without protest.

All right. The last part was a bit of an exaggeration. But that's how he'd felt most of the times. That's how it had been until Pansy had showed up and, to employ a familiar phrase, turned his world upside down.

She hadn't done anything per se. She had just been there, open to him, honest and raw, giving and not taking. Despite the fact that he barely knew her and she barely knew him, he felt he could be around her and not lose his sense of ..._self_.

He felt they were the same in a way and he knew why. The night he had kissed her, she had seen it in her eyes. The same frustration. Malfoy took everything from her, giving her nothing back. She had craved human contact and affection given with utmost intensity, but she hadn't realized that in craving this so much she had given the same thing to him.

He was trapped now. He could go about it rationally and sort out his mind, find his true feelings once more and avoid her at all costs, focusing on Hermione and his feelings for her. Or...he could give into the passion for a bit longer and taste Pansy's rough lips one more time.

No. He shook his head. No, he couldn't allow it.

If he did, he would come back from it wanting more. He knew himself.

* * *

A week into the holidays, he went to visit his father at the Ministry. Arthur had convinced him spending some time in the shady offices of the Magical Control department would help him learn a thing or two about his father's job and help him understand the necessity of it.

Secretly, Arthur was planning to talk to Percy again, using Ron as emotional support.

He'd gone to London half-heartedly, not really wishing to separate himself from his two friends, but he'd hoped it wouldn't be too boring or take too long.

'Er, Ronald, we're going to go upstairs for a while and see if we can talk to your brother,' Arthur mumbled after their lunch break as they sat at his desk, looking through some old documents.

'Dad, not again...' Ron began, rolling his eyes.

'No, Ron, listen to me, the boy needs his family around him...'

'Percy is a hopeless case right now, dad,' Ron interrupted him. 'You'd have more luck with a door knob. You'll have to let him come to us. He will, once he realizes he's being an idiot.'

They argued for several more minutes before Arthur's office mate told them to just leave already and stop disturbing the work place with useless chatter.

Ron swore to himself silently that he'd never work here.

As they rushed to the elevator, his dad suddenly realized he'd left his wand in his office.

'I'm not allowed on the upper floors without my wand,' he explained. 'You go on to the Fourth Floor and wait for me there. I'll join you promptly.'

Ron was tired of arguing so he did as his father wished. He took the elevator up.

Only, it stopped between floors and opened for new passengers.

It was a good thing he had a strong heart. Otherwise he would have had a massive heart attacked. He would have collapsed right at her feet.

Pansy Parkinson was standing right in front of him, next to an elderly man who looked like her father.

She was wearing a bright, green dress that moulded on her like a second skin and a pair of black, screeching boots which made a harrowing sound as she walked into the elevator.

'Weasley, I presume,' the man began. 'Arthur Weasley's boy?'

'Yes...I'm Ron Weasley,' he began cautiously, staring at Pansy.

'Oh, yes, _daddy_, he's Weasley from school,' Pansy assured him sweetly, not looking at the ginger at hand.

'Humph. Come to see your father, Weasley?'

'My brother actually,' Ron said, trying really hard to steady his breaths.

'How many of you are in this building?' the man asked amused. 'Never mind.'

'You must be...Mr. Parkinson,' he began shakily.

'You are correct.'

'Daddy and I have some _business_ to attend to on the Fourth Floor,' Pansy added, lacing her words with a tenderness that was sharper than any brash comment.

'Oh, I am going there too,' he said awkwardly, not being able to take his eyes from Pansy's white, soft, collarbones.

'Wonderful,' she said icily.

When they all arrived on the Fourth Floor, Pansy's father walked straight into an adjacent hallway, knocking on one of the many black, white-numbered doors.

He turned around and glanced at his daughter.

'You will take care of Administration,' he ordered his daughter before entering the room.

She nodded her head and watched him disappear.

'What's that all about?' Ron asked without thinking.

Pansy turned to look at him. She was highly amused. Her pink lips were already laughing at him.

'I mean, does he always order you around?' Ron continued, feeling he couldn't just bolt now.

'Yes. I rather enjoy it. I hate sentimentalities,' she said in a low voice, tracing his tie with her fingers.

She enjoyed orders? Why did that make him tingle?

'Your dad made you wear a tie?'

'It's the Ministry. For some reason he respects it.'

'For some reason...' Pansy repeated thoughtfully. 'For some reason I want to take it off.'

'My...my tie?' Ron said softly.

'Yes. It's awful. Simply. Awful,' she said slowly, punctuating every word with a finger in his chest.

He remembered how she'd almost strangled him with another tie during their last...meeting.

'Stop it. Stop playing like that. I don't like it,' he said, pushing her hand away.

'I know, but _I_ do,' she retorted, smirking at him.

Ron was about to tell her to go straight to hell, when she suddenly straightened her back and looked at the door whence her father would soon emerge.

'We are selling our house. And most of our business,' she suddenly told him.

'Wha...?'

'You heard me. The Parkinsons won't be gloriously powerful anymore, but they will be richer. And maybe wiser.'

Ron was at a loss for words. He couldn't really make her out. Her family was going out of business? Or were they just trying to cash in without having to exert themselves anymore? Were they in trouble? Selling the house so they could move? Did it have to do with...He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?

No...Pansy seemed casual about it. But she would be, about such things, wouldn't she?

'I wish I knew what you were talking about,' he said resentfully. 'It doesn't make any bloody sense.'

'You know what doesn't make sense, _Ronald_?'

'Don't call me tha...'

'Your obvious attraction to me. You should know better.'

Ron gaped at her.

'Perhaps I shouldn't encourage it. But how can I resist when you are so willing?' she said, smiling devilishly.

She stepped back into the elevator and glued herself to the wall, daring him with her eyes to follow her.

He stood his ground, staring at her as if she had grown another head.

He shook his head angrily.

Pansy licked her lips and pushed the closing button.

At the last moment, before the doors turned shut, he jumped in, damning all consequences.

Pansy immediately pushed him against the wall, taking off his tie.

'Ugh, I can finally get rid of this hideous thing.'

Ron tried to push her off but she pressed her knee between his legs and unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt.

'There. Much better. Now you can finally let it out.'

And he did. He actually sighed. He didn't know he'd been holding his breath.

'Parkinson. What the hell do you think you're doing?' he asked her roughly, placing his hands on her arms. 'I want nothing to do with you.'

Pansy frowned.

Her hand glided over his chest and found the skin of his neck, pushing his head back against the wall. Her hot breath fell over his face like a veil. Her mouth hovered tentatively over his.

'You'll have to do better than that. You'll have to really _mean_ it.'

Ron found it difficult to breathe again. The poisonous taste of her lips was calling him again, treacherous as it was. Her body so tightly wound next to his was making it hard for him to think of anything else.

It wasn't just her physical proximity though. It wasn't just that. It was her voice, her words, her behaviour. She was just so wrong, so incredibly wrong about him and everything. Such a stuck-up bitch with no shred of decency in her.

God, why?

'Say it then. Say you don't want me,' she spoke into his mouth, her knee travelling up his leg.

He knew why she was doing this. Malfoy didn't care about her. She was starved. So was he. But she was desperate. It had to be desperation, _right_?

What if she was just toying with him? What if he gave in and she just laughed in his face? What if it was just another trap?

'I don't wa...' he began, shakily.

'Yes?' she asked sweetly, trailing her lips over his jaw line, but not really touching the skin. He shuddered.

'I don't...' he started again, clenching his fists.

'Take your time,' she said, as her knee began a movement between his legs.

'Damn it...you're enjoying...t-this, aren't y-you?' he asked, between breaths.

'You have no idea.'

Ron gathered all his strength and pushed her away suddenly, anger building up in his throat.

'I don't want you,' he said dizzily.

Pansy hadn't expected this answer. Her facade broke down a little. Her enthusiasm wavered and her eyes lost their spark.

'You're not a good liar, Weasel,' she said, sneering.

'Get out of my way, Parkinson, I'm going to go see my brother,' he said, his tone crisp and cold once more. _Another cup of crazy_, he thought.

'No one is standing in your way,' she replied annoyed.

He nodded his head and opened the doors, walking out past her. He turned around before he left.

'I've never wanted you,' he said starkly.

Pansy leant against the wall and mentally sighed in annoyance. She tried not to show any emotion. She couldn't allow herself to flinch.

_Oh well, another waste of time_, she thought begrudgingly. _Just like Malfoy_.

* * *

Four hours and a blazing row with Percy and his dad later he was ready to pack up and get the hell out of there. The Burrow was the only place now where his sanity would be intact. No Ministry, no brain-washed siblings, no horrible distractions, no Parkinson...

He congratulated himself on having pushed her away so effectively. Perhaps he was beginning to grow after all.

He found himself on the busy streets of London once more.

'Wait here, Ron, I'll go get us some muggle newspapers,' his dad told him excited as he walked across the street to a newsagent's.

Ron stood there waiting for his overly enthusiastic father to return. He knew he was only masking his increasing disappointment and pain, but he wouldn't ruin this last pleasure for his dad.

His patience was wearing thin though. He was tired and annoyed...and he felt something was amiss. Like a hole inside of him he hadn't filled.

Then he saw her.

Pansy. Bloody Pansy.

God, it was surreal. It was like nothing he'd expected.

She walked out of the public restroom (Ministry entrance) with her dad. He saw her father give her some money and pat her on the shoulder stiffly. After which, Mr. Parkinson Apparated with a soft pop.

Ron was bewildered. Why would her father leave her like that?

Pansy turned the corner and saw him. She stopped abruptly and turned around, choosing to go in another direction. Her walk was just as infurating as her attitude, loaded with sinister and alluring implications.

He called after her. She ignored him.

Ron ran after her, knowing he'd regret it, and pulled her into the nearest deserted alley.

'Weasley,' she said breathlessly.

'Where are you going, Parkinson?' he asked.

'Nowhere in particular. Around town perhaps, shopping,' she replied lazily.

'Why don't you just Apparate and leave with your father?' he asked, his tone resentful.

'He told me not to,' she said bluntly.

Ron searched her eyes unconvinced. She was telling the truth. Something about this cemented his resolve. She was being open. Raw again.

She extricated herself from his hold and meant to leave but he pushed her up against the wall and planted his hands on her soft green dress.

'I want you,' he said lowly, barely registering what was happening, his hands travelling down to her thighs, feeling the infuriating warmth.

'Oh?'

'I do. I want you,' he confessed in shame.

'Really now?'

Her words were thinly veiled. She was advancing on him just like in the elevator, only he was in control now. He had initiated the act. That is what she had wanted from the beginning, for him to take power. Malfoy never took power, never acted. She was always left with the want.

'Why'd you think I wouldn't?' he asked.

Pansy smirked in her habitual fashion and spoke into his ears, like a caress.

'I never did.'

With that, she Apparated with the same soft pop as her father, leaving him holding onto thin air instead of her alluring green dress.

He felt the staggering cold surround him.

Her body was gone. But her cat-like smirk remained etched into his brain for a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

**What's that you see? A lengthy, somewhat steamy update? So soon? Well, you can blame that new tumblr that made me realize I should stick with my silly pairing, through thick and thin. Even if they are so over the top sometimes. Thanks to all of your kind reviews, glad to see this story is getting some love.**

**Hope you like this chapter. It's a bit on the M side, but it's still quite T because the problematic scene is not exactly er, graphic so I don't believe there is a need for a change of rating. Hope that's all right with you. **

**Please enjoy :)**

* * *

The rusty fabric on his bed felt foreign as he turned towards the source of light. She was partially blinding him, she in her full, naked glory, half-covered by what looked like a huge white blouse, an image of pure, crystallized nothingness, bright in her expanse, dark in her destructive nature.

She was a black hole, sucking him through. Momentarily, though, Pansy was staring at the window.

He couldn't take the pause between words. Whatever had happened had happened. The hunger inside of him which had been burning his stomach for days on end was beginning to take over him. He didn't even stop to analyze the absurd circumstances of this inconsequential awakening.

He was only madly content she was there.

With a swift move, Ron pulled her towards him rapidly and covered her body with his, pinning her to the bed.

He began to notice how she was a lot plumper without her clothes on. The soft, bumpy curves he had not fully conceptualized before stared back at him with the natural beauty of a real woman, not just a dream. She was wholly indecent and yet, the rubicund thighs he had never guessed under her tight stockings, had the roundness of a child, of someone incapable of harm. But she was harmful, just like that.

He tried looking into her eyes, but they were a blur. Her entire face was contorted somehow.

He kissed her roughly, trying to stir a reaction.

She was silent and still, but quite alive, if one judged by her frantic heart beats and the lopsided smirk at the corner of her mouth. She seemed to be stuck in a frame from a play, acting out a feeling, but not really feeling anything. She was smirking at nothing.

Ron tried to force her to interact with him; he caressed her smooth, yet rough skin, his fingers playing nervously over every new crevice and he kneaded her breasts clumsily, but she was still as motionless as a doll.

He sat up sharply and pulled her to him, shaking her gently. He took her chin into his hand and turned it sideways.

'Pansy, please, tell me you're all right.'

Pansy shrugged her shoulders and sprawled her arms lazily over his shoulders, almost like a puppet looking for support.

And then, out of the blue, out of nothing really, Ron started crying.

He started sobbing large tears of frustration and desire, of pain and humiliation. He wanted to embrace her but he wanted to tear his skin off.

If she could at least try to kiss him back, he wouldn't have to feel this way; he could lull his conscience, find some solace.

'Pansy, can you hear me?'

After what felt like an hour, she finally pulled away from him and wrapped her body in the overly large blouse again.

'Breakfast time, idiot,' she muttered to herself.

'What did you – '

'Come on, you sod, breakfast!' she shouted into his ear.

Ron shot up as if someone had poured scalding water over his body. Surely, his younger sister was standing over his bed yelling at him like there was no tomorrow.

'Sorry to disturb your Hermione fantasies, but the family would like you to come down. Now,' Ginny spoke to him curtly and turned around abruptly.

'Merlin, Ginny, could you shout any louder?' he muttered morosely. 'I don't think Hermione's heard you.'

He would have wanted to say that he had been dreaming of Pansy Parkinson instead, just to see the look on his little sister's face, but he realized it would not only be incredibly stupid, but Ginny would just use this as a new reason to mock him.

Still, as he got out of bed, wobbling to his wardrobe, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was coming down with something serious. He had only dreamt of Hermione scantily clad, but never fully naked and never this…intimate. He had fantasized of Hermione grabbing him passionately and kissing him furiously, but it had never been this odd, this personal, this erotic and yet completely un-erotic.

His dream had had such a tragic quality to it that even now, he blinked hard almost as if he were trying to control himself. He was going to collapse again and sob in resignation, wasn't he?

But just then, he did the opposite. He started laughing angrily. Laughing with a strange, imperious force.

What was he talking about? Was he mental?

There was no tragedy, just him lusting over some girl.

* * *

Christmas was another happy, nostalgic event in the family; happy because there were still some things to smile about in the world, despite the dire newspaper titles that kept cropping up every morning, and nostalgic, because all the family members (except for Percy of course) and even some more sociable Order members had gathered at the Burrow, bearing gifts and photo albums.

His mother had given her best Christmas dinner yet. She had really outdone herself. She had baked four chocolate cakes, just in case there would be more guests than last year.

Ron had not had a big appetite, but he had enjoyed the feast nevertheless.

He was always happy to be at home, no matter the event or celebration.

Harry and Ginny, he had nervously noticed, were beginning to grow closer and closer. They were on more than friendly terms with each other.

He had noticed them sneaking around to be alone and talk sometimes. He had also noticed the looks Harry was trying hard not to, but ended up giving her anyway, every time they were all in the same room together.

It was slightly bothersome when your best friend and your sister were considering each other like that because, well, they were so close to him and now they were getting too close to each other and it made him feel very uncomfortable.

He tried talking to Hermione about it, but she immediately told him that there was nothing uncomfortable about Harry and Ginny really liking each other since they had basically grown up together; it was only natural and to be desired and expected.

Ron was not exactly convinced. He also wondered briefly, in a moment of painful doubts, whether Hermione perceived their relationship like that; they had been friends and had stood by one another for almost six years now, surely the logical step would be exclusive romantic commitment. He knew that was normal. That was what he felt as well.

And yet, it seemed too contrived somehow, too convenient. Hearing her declare how completely predictable and almost obligatory Harry and Ginny were as a couple, made him feel sick about his own pseudo-relationship with Hermione and whether it would ever be something separate and individual, something intimate and comforting, something that was only theirs and followed no logical course whatsoever.

He wasn't a seeker of romantic adventure or anything of the sort. He didn't believe in opposites that attract, because Hermione, though very different in her own way, had a lot in common with him and with the kind of girl he liked. So there was nothing for him to contemplate any further. Nothing for him to think of except how to take the step with Hermione.

He just had to get Parkinson out of his mind and come clean about having kissed her…once or twice. Would Hermione forgive him? Would she count it as cheating?

He didn't feel it was cheating, since he knew he loved Hermione and Pansy was just one of the fringes of his life that bore no importance to him. It was only physical. A physical, maybe mutual, attraction that he had deluded himself into believing was something more.

It wasn't a normal crush, it was something more potent, that was true, but that didn't mean it was in any way substantial.

* * *

The day before the New Year's Eve, Ron decided to take Hermione to Diagon Alley because she needed to shop for school and he was hoping they'd have a moment of their own, maybe grab a cup of coffee, talk and hold hands. What if he got to kiss her in a sheltered alley, away from everyone's looks?

He had big hopes and he was also completely obsessed with the idea that he and she might share their first kiss.

Harry had not even offered to come with them the moment he had guessed Ron's intentions and Hermione, no matter how oblivious she was trying to appear as to not discourage Ron, had silently consented to everything.

Now, as the two walked down one of the busiest streets in Diagon Alley, him clutching a giant shopping bag and Hermione gazing through the windows attentively, commenting from time to time on the articles displayed or just making random chit-chatter, he began to see how it would take a while for the two of them to get more comfortable. Not that he minded, but he was beginning to feel the afternoon would drag on a little.

He offered polite suggestions when Hermione asked if she should get an extra textbook for Arithmancy and bought her a new diary and a set of 'singing' bookmarks in the shapes of animals for her personal volumes.

Hermione had been more than pleased with his attentions, despite insisting on paying herself, and had slipped her hand into his from time to time, but only briefly.

He felt things were finally going his way.

At one point, they stopped their hunt for school items and decided to have lunch.

Ron couldn't be more thrilled. He was getting quite tired.

They found a cozy teashop right around the corner and a more hidden booth towards the end of the room. It couldn't be more convenient.

Sure, the place smelt of burnt meat and mashed potatoes and they served more mead and beer than tea, but it would do presently. It was also something he could afford.

They began talking as usual, getting into their almost rudimentary arguments and quickly moving on to new things.

When the conversation started to dwindle, Ron felt it was time to get closer to her and maybe caress her cheek or pull a lock of hair out of her face. Ears crimson from shyness, he drew nearer and tentatively placed an arm over the back of her chair.

She didn't move, but she almost flinched from surprise. A small smile played on her lips. He took this as encouragement and let his arm fall over her shoulders.

'Oh, hi there,' she said, chucking slightly.

'Yeah, I know…making a fool of myself, but…' he began.

'No, no, this is quite nice, just a bit sudden, but I suppose it was _going_ to happen. You've been too nice all day,' she teased.

'Guess I'm more predictable than I thought.'

'Oh, I like it that way sometimes,' she replied, placing her hand awkwardly over his.

'Um, Hermione, before I say anything else that reveals how much I…well, just tell me, I've been wondering, have you ended things with McLaggen?'

Hermione frowned confused. Where had that come from? She drew away from him almost imperceptibly.

'What are you…? McLaggen? We were never together. We just went out a couple of times. Honestly Ronald, I feel a bit stupid you would suggest something like that.'

Ron coughed nervously.

'Look, I didn't mean to imply that…I know you two aren't an item or anything, but does he know he doesn't stand a chance with you anymore?'

Hermione furrowed her brows.

'Well, I don't know, it's not like I can read his thoughts. We haven't seen each other since the end of the semester and I think it's clear…'

'But did you tell him?'

'Tell him what? I don't even care about him. Why is it so important? I haven't spoken to him since that Prefect meeting!'

Ron's eyes widened.

'Prefect meeting?'

'He caught me after the meeting and wished me a merry Christmas and gave me this silly card…'

'And you took it?' Ron asked bewildered.

'Well, honestly Ron, it's the polite thing to do, I couldn't just throw it in his face.'

'What did the card say then?'

'Oh come on, really? Are we really going to discuss McLaggen's poetry?'

'Poetry? He wrote you poetry?' Ron asked scandalized.

'He just threw in some awful verses to try and seem well-read since he knows I like that,' she said, waving her hand in dismissal.

'If he is trying to impress you, it means he still likes you. I didn't even know he liked you to begin with. You haven't told him there's no chance, have you?'

'First off, not everyone is oblivious to me, some people do show interest, even if they're total gits. Second, you say it like it's such a shock that someone else likes me and bothered to do something about it instead of waiting for so long…' she muttered to herself.

'Are you saying I waited too long? Because if you haven't noticed, you've been doing the same thing.'

'I have always made my feelings clear.'

'No, you haven't. That's the point,' Ron argued.

'All right, look, I'm going to go to the bathroom and freshen up and when I come back, can we please stop talking about stupid McLaggen and enjoy our lunch together?'

'No, look, I need to talk about this. I need to know what you think. And about McLaggen,' Ron spoke angrily, his insecurity forgotten momentarily.

'Fine! Then I'll just take a short walk and get some fresh air! And maybe then when I come back we can just be normal,' Hermione said, standing up.

Before he could retort or attempt to stop her, she had walked past his chair and through the throng of adjacent tables.

She was out the door in mere seconds.

Ron slouched back into his chair like a defeated man.

Why had he been so thick-headed to bring McLaggen into this?

He had just needed to know…

The only thing he knew now was that Hermione was almost unconsciously saving the other boy as an option, just in case he left her disappointed.

Ron sank his head into his hands.

Why couldn't things be simple?

* * *

He walked alone down the snowy streets, no real purpose in mind, no direction, no goal, no desire to be found. The cold and the festive lights made his stomach turn.

He stopped in front of Gringotts.

That's when he saw a familiar face. His heart jumped in his throat unpleasantly. It couldn't be, but it was. Pansy's father.

The same man that had shunned his own daughter and had acted so condescendingly towards him was coming out of the wizardly bank.

He did not know what he was doing or why he was doing it, but he decided to follow him. He had nothing better to do and curiosity was eating at him.

The man took a left turn and walked down the Gringotts Street until he reached a block of offices filled with advertising.

Ron saw him walk towards a parking lot next to it, where a dozen flying cars stood motionless. He took out a briefcase from the trunk of one of them and walked back towards the offices.

Ron noticed that his personal car was a sophisticated imported number, made only by special order. Of course. Most of the flying cars there looked a cut above average.

He approached the parking lot.

Pansy was sitting inside the car, flipping through a newspaper distractedly.

Cold sweat trickled down his back as he watched her shift in her seat impatiently.

She didn't notice him coming towards her, otherwise she would have got out of the car, but he was too fast, too anxious. He jumped right into the backseat next to her.

She almost yelped in surprise.

Dropping her newspaper like dead weight, Pansy stared at him amazed.

'Weasley? Out of all the places to be, you…?' she began, her voice shaking slightly. 'Well, I knew I should have locked the car.'

She was trying to act nonchalant as usual, but her eyes were too stormy, too unsettling, too searching.

Her lips tried to smirk, but failed miserably.

Ron let out a sigh of relief. A reaction. Finally, a reaction.

She wasn't the puppet from his dream.

'Are you going to explain yourself? Or are you just hiding from someone?' she asked, raising an eyebrow.

As he kept stubbornly quiet and aloof, only staring intensely into her eyes and panting from the strong emotions, she began to feel something was off. She began to feel fear and excitement.

She knew deep down she didn't even care why he had suddenly found her. She was just glad _someone_ had come. And Weasley was such an interesting commoner.

'I'm…hiding,' he replied after a long silence.

He had collected himself, somewhat.

'Oh,' she said in disappointment. 'Then I have no use for you. You may leave, Weasley.'

Ron shook his head, as if he were in a trance.

He grabbed her legs, which were propped against the seat in front of her and pulled them into his lap.

He started dragging her slowly towards him, punctuating every movement with his words.

'You left me there alone last time… after I told you what I hated to tell you. You owe me one.'

She was almost into his lap.

Pansy felt her cheeks flush. Her heart was going insane.

She tried to suppress a smile.

'You hate to want, is that it?' she asked.

'Yes. I hate it, Parkinson. You have to do it too, you have to hate it too. You have to pay me back.'

'Oh, I will and I do,' she almost purred as her dress ruffled up against his knees.

'I hate it so much, Ronald Weasley,' she said, raising herself to meet his gaze. She was practically sitting on him.

'You should, you really should,' he said, burying his head into her collarbone and breathing in her sticky perfume hungrily. He moved his lips over her skin, towards her lips, but she pulled him by his hair and made him stare into her acid-spitting eyes.

'No kissing this time,' she said, tracing her finger over his lips before licking his nose.

Ron grabbed her waist tightly and felt her body move over his expectantly. She moved her hands to his trousers.

'You mean…now, like this?' he asked, feeling like a little boy again.

Pansy rolled her eyes. 'We have about thirty minutes anyway.'

'I don't…I don't want it like this,' he mumbled.

'But you want it, and you hate wanting it. So it had better be like this,' she spat, moving her hands carelessly over his lap.

He couldn't even argue anymore when she almost ripped off his sweater.

He tried not to tear her dress though, because he suspected she would mind very much.

So instead he helped her with the zipper.

They were trying to move fast, as if they were too blinded by passion and urges, but the truth was, they both wanted to pretend this could not be any other way.

He took off her dress almost gently, his hands shaking slightly, as he pulled her bra over her head. He felt a real satisfaction in seeing he had been right about the rubicund curves.

He pressed her down on the backseat, almost as if he were protecting her from any curious eyes that might spot them in the parking lot.

'Are you cold?' he asked, when he noticed that her nipples were erect.

Pansy almost laughed. 'Among other things.'

'No kissing?' he asked again.

'No kissing,' she confirmed. 'Please.'

That seemed to settle it. Her fingers quickly disposed of his undershirt as her own panties slipped somewhere between them and their skins quickly met as he lowered himself over her with such care that you would think he would crush her otherwise.

'Parkinson, this is so…'

'Wrong?' she asked, raising an eyebrow. She was trembling slightly.

'No,' he replied instead.

She seemed taken aback.

'You hate it, Weasley. Say it with me. Hate, hate, hate,' she muttered, as she let herself fall into a sort of cadence with him.

Ron had never done this sort of thing before and he felt both paralyzed and mesmerized at the same time. He wanted to have her, but he was immobilized by her warmth, by the personal touch of this act, by the unspoken affection that had risen out of this impossible situation.

It was only now, on the brink of real pleasure, that he realized it wasn't just lust.

There was something inside her, a cold fire, a blazing frivolity, that was pure and painful. She was so real and so near. Part of him and his sins.

She noticed his shyness, his confusion, his deep hunger and she guided him slowly, almost like you'd guide a child, pressing herself to him in the right ways and caressing his back softly.

He was arrested by this proof of kindness. She was still staring at him in disdain, but her hands were speaking a new language.

Finally, he dropped any pretense of timidity and sank into her fully.

'I hate it, God, yes, I hate it, I do, I need you, I need the hate, God, Pansy…' he muttered incoherently, propping his chin against her forehead.

'How much do you hate it? How much?' she almost shrieked.

'I hate it so much I am going to destroy you…you will be nothing…after this…' he spoke between pants.

'Aaah, that's barely convincing…' she said, mewling softly. 'Don't be such a coward, Weasel.'

Ron's temper roared.

He grabbed her arms tightly and pinned them over her head. He began to drive into her with a new, merciless rhythm. Yet, the simple, affectionate candour remained as he stopped sometimes and began again, almost as if waiting for a sign from her.

But as seconds passed, he couldn't pause anymore. He just kept going, faster and faster, feeling a terrible itch inside his stomach, bringing him closer to a horrific, splendid end.

'I'm b-breaking your bones, shattering y-you...taking your b-blood…' he whispered into her ear madly. He was not really thinking anymore.

'Y-yes, t-that's more like it, feel the hate g-grow inside of you…'

'Bloody hell...Y-you…you vile, rotten bitch,' he said more loudly.

'Pathetic little v-verming,' she muttered, turning her head away to swallow a moan.

'God, yes, Pansy, yes, I hate you, I need to…'

'Yes, Ron, I hate you too, always, I do, I do!' she shouted frantically into his shoulder.

She came first, letting out a sharp, almost cat-like moan as she sank her nails into his skin.

He came right afterward, groaning deeply into her breasts, his voice growing almost hoarse from the powerful surge of exhilarating pleasure and pain.

He felt he was with her completely and still somehow alone, alone watching her from afar, and she was slowly slipping into him again and there was no way out.

Their eyes met and they shared such an intimate moment of unsure emotions, of insecurity and vulnerability, that Pansy almost broke her rule and kissed him.

But she drew back in time.

'I dreamt of you just like this,' he confessed, lowering his eyes.

'Just like this…? Not possible,' she replied almost breathlessly. 'I am much better than any fantasy of yours.'

Ron squeezed her to him tightly.

'Yes. Yes, much better.'

'I dreamt of you too.'

Ron's eyes popped out of their sockets. 'What…?'

'Well, _you_ were much better in my dream actually. You were being quite obedient and experienced. And you didn't have any freckles.'

Ron frowned slightly offended, but somehow pleased all the same. She was being so mean and so childish. It was comforting.

Pansy suddenly placed a soft hand over his cheek.

'But I admit, I prefer this version, either way,' she confessed quietly.

Ron's face broke into a happy smile. He grabbed her face and placed a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead.

Pansy shrunk from him at first, but when she saw how gentle he had been, she lowered her head in approval.

'Your dad will be here soon, probably.'

'Thinking of going already?'

'N-no, no, I just – we should Apparate somewhere and – '

'Save it, Weasley. I need to get dressed anyhow. And I have to make sure the car doesn't smell of sex.'

'Just…just come with me, or I don't know, let's take off – ' he began precipitately.

Pansy placed a hand over his mouth.

'_Ronald_, you don't have to try so hard. I'm not Granger.'

Ron's shoulders sagged.

'No, you're not. And I don't want you to be.'

'Oh, someday you will. Maybe now I'm different and new, but someday you'll want her, like you want me,' she told him, a pang of sadness making its way into her words.

Ron helped her get into her dress again. When he had zipped her dress back, she turned towards him and smiled.

'Thanks for…keeping me entertained. And sane. For one afternoon.'

Ron opened his mouth to reply. He wanted to tell her they should meet and talk when they went back to school, but she suddenly jumped from her seat.

'Daddy's coming. I saw him get out of the building. Leave quickly and never say a word,' she told him urgently and cast a quick spell to cover any traces.

Ron stumbled out of the car with the gracefulness of a troll.

He drudged his body across the parking lot, more asleep than awake, feeling like the whole world had fallen on him. The lines between reality and dream were blurred.

Only the feeling was there, real, very real, nagging him.

He almost collapsed on one of the benches on the sidewalk.

He placed his head into his palms and he began shivering.


	5. Chapter 5

When Ron found Hermione again, the winter sky had turned dark blue, since the day was dwindling already.

His tremors had not subsided yet, but he could manage walking. He felt devastated, shattered in and out, but strangely calm and satiated.

All he wanted to do now was get back to the Burrow and lie down in his bed and sleep.

She ran into him first, although he had spotted her from a distance.

'Oh, thank God I found you, I thought you'd gone lost! Look, Ron, I'm so sorry about everything, I really am. I shouldn't have even mentioned that stupid Christmas card and you were right about me not rejecting McLaggen, I should have told him how I felt a long time ago, I can't believe I would do such a –'

'Hermione, calm down, take a deep breath. You did nothing wrong,' Ron spoke gently, avoiding her eyes.

'How can I calm down when I just left you there like an idiot? Well, I'm the idiot here, I clearly overreacted and made a big –'

'You're overreacting _now_. I'm not upset about anything. I'm…glad I found you,' he said, struggling with his own words.

Hermione broke into a shy smile and shook her head in frustration.

'You were the mature one, for once. I made a terrible mistake. In fact, I am going to owl McLaggen _tonight_ and make it clear that there is nothing going on – or well, maybe I should wait and talk to him in person, not that it would be any different, but I sort of dragged him into everything. He doesn't deserve bad treatment just because he has an off-putting attitude…"

'Hermione, you don't need to talk to him, he'll…he'll understand once he sees you're not interested, I suppose. It's not a big deal, honestly,' he said, looking down sheepishly.

'But it is. It is for me. I was unethical, I made a mistake, I mean you've been so nice recently and – '

Ron felt the painful, scorching guilt gnaw at his insides. God worked in ironic ways.

'I would hold off on the praise for now…' he mumbled.

'Are you mad?' Hermione asked concerned. 'You seem mad. Or upset. But there's something wrong with you, I can tell.'

A small flicker of panic crossed his eyes briefly, before his heart slowed down again and the familiar feeling of exhaustion replaced his anxiety.

'Nah, I just walked through the snow for too long,' he said absently. He couldn't bring himself to think about what happened or deal with Hermione's sudden apology. He just wanted to sleep.

'Let's go home. We'll talk at the Burrow. Privately if you want,' she said, shyly.

'Yeah, sure…after we rest,' he agreed.

* * *

Pansy stood stock still in the middle of the patio, watching the workers dismantle the furniture and the family crests in the middle of the hallway. She was holding onto her mink fur tightly, eyes half-shut, breathing in the cold air and trying her best to conjure something warmer and happier. She couldn't shake off the feeling of shame. It was sticking to her skin like glue. A fallen goddess, dreading to look herself in the mirror, afraid she might not be able to stand her own decay.

She realized with a pang that the Malfoy family would never accept her in their midst now. It was absurd, but despite the fact that her father had given up his possessions and half his title to the Dark Lord, he would still be despised by his other followers, just because he had lowered himself so much, without even being a Death Eater to begin with. She couldn't help but acknowledge the reasons for contempt. She didn't have very fond feelings for her father, although she had admired his choice of not taking the Mark.

But is it better to give everything you've worked for away just to feel a small sense of independence? It was practically inexistent, that is why her father was caught between hammer and nail.

But everyone was going to despise him now, and by extension, his family too.

Pansy smiled crookedly. She had grown attached to the sense of grave superiority the tragically grotesque outcome had given her.

And she was still beautiful and sophisticated, wasn't she? She had the body and the mind to worm her way into different circles that would offer her some form of protection. She would never truly be humiliated, she had already established a firm reputation at Hogwarts, and even if she was, she was going to enjoy it because it would make her a true seductress, the way she had always wanted but never could be. Boys would still want her and that was most important.

* * *

What had happened to his Christmas? All he could think about was when it was going to be over. His mum kept pressing him to join in the holiday fun, but for once, Ron wanted to do house chores. He started taking on all sorts of responsibilities around the house, just to be able to be alone with his guilt and distract himself with some form of effort that would not let him think about her too much.

'I can't believe he's being so helpful! Ron's never offered to do anything around here without me pushing him from behind,' Mrs. Weasley told her family at dinner.

Harry and Ginny exchanged meaningful glances and stared at Hermione. They suspected it had something to do with their bright friend. What other reason would Ron have to show he was more responsible and mature unless he wanted to impress Hermione? And the girl felt the same. She had a strong suspicion he was doing it for her.

But then why was he so overly shy and quiet around her? He had been that way for the past five days and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if it was something more pressing than teenage nerves.

She expressed her worries to Ginny, but she seemed confident that the only thing eating at her brother was her small affair with McLaggen.

Meanwhile, Ron could barely keep still around the house. He just wanted to run or fly or do something that would take him out of this state. He kept walking through the back yard with no aim, throwing small hexes at the malicious garden gnomes, growing wearied with his family and everyone around him.

Pansy was almost constantly on his mind, but he wasn't always aware of it. He'd be sitting by the fire with Harry, playing chess absently, and her lopsided grin would suddenly appear before him, her blond, tangled hair, her bitten nails, even her woolen dresses, or he'd remember her smell, or he'd see a shadow in the next room, the shadow of a girl and his heart would skip a beat.

Granted he was almost certain it hadn't been her first time, he knew bloody well it had been his. And it had happened in such an awful, deeply disturbing and yet perfectly organic way that he couldn't help feeling ashamed and exhilarated at the same time. It was like a fall from great heights. Man had fallen from Paradise. He had fallen from that comfortable, familiar place in his life into the depths of this endless unknown.

On their last day home, Hermione had cornered him in the garden. He was once again on a mission to eradicate all garden gnomes.

She snuck behind him and placed a soft hand over his shoulder. He jumped instantly.

'Sorry, did I scare you? I didn't mean to. You know, you don't have to take it out on the gnomes, you can just talk to me about…whatever it is that is upsetting you.'

'I'm not upset Hermione,' he said, smiling slightly. 'I've never liked these gnomes.'

Hermione didn't seem convinced.

'Are you sure it's just that? Ron, you can tell me everything. Harry and I were wondering…'

'I'm fine, Hermione,' Ron said quickly, working his brains for a better excuse.

'It's just…well, it might sound stupid…' he dragged on, trying to think of something. 'You'll say it's silly.'

'No, never. I mean unless it is, but I'm sure it's not. You look worked up.'

Ron sighed, scratching the soil with his dirty sneakers.

'It's Percy,' he said, exhaling finally.

Hermione narrowed her eyes in worry. 'Percy? What happened?'

'Remember when dad and I went to see him at the Ministry?'

'Yes. You mentioned it didn't go so well, that he's…'

'A stubborn git, yes. He refused to come around, as usual. But I ran into him again when we went shopping on Diagon Alley,' he lied, gritting his teeth.

Realization dawned upon Hermione. Her features turned sympathetic as her hands moved up to take his.

'What happened?'

'He was coming out of Gringotts,' Ron began, seeing Mr. Parkinson walk out of the bank once again.

'I followed him to a parking lot…' Ron continued, remembering Pansy sitting in the flying car, 'and that's when he stopped and we talked. I hadn't meant for it to happen. I hadn't meant to follow him. Or even talk to him, but it was…it was an instinct, more like a desperate attempt to…make things right.'

'What did he say?'

'Ah, nothing much,' Ron said, shaking his head. The image of Pansy disappeared once more.

'We didn't do much talking either way. He…he told me I should graduate soon and if I knew what was good for me, I'd stick with him…and he'd get me a job. And I'd become his help and he'd introduce me to…people,' Ron blabbered on senselessly, one lie piling up over the other.

'Oh. Maybe that is his indirect way of showing he still cares for you. He could have just turned his back on you,' Hermione offered.

'Maybe…maybe that's affection in his head. I…I didn't care for it. I said I'd think about it, but that it was bloody unlikely. And I invited him for dinner. Just one small Christmas dinner. He said no, of course. And that was it.'

Ron turned around, disgusted by his own lies. It had been too smooth, too easy to lie, he had done it without even stopping to think, without remorse, lies had come one after the other and while it was certainly true that he missed Percy and that a conversation with him would end in anger and disappointment, it was just as true that he was using his brother to cover up an absurd affair with a Slytherin girl while the girl he supposedly liked was standing before him, trying to comfort him for the loss of a sibling.

Hermione squeezed his hand.

'I know you've heard this so many times before, but he'll come around. Somehow he will. Because he'll realize you are more important to him than the Ministry. He will. He already cares about you enough to try and bring you into his own world.'

Ron nodded his head reluctantly, trying to hide his face. Would Pansy ever care enough to bring him into her world...?

But what was he saying? She didn't care for him and he didn't care for her, it was just a burning passion that had nothing to do with their Houses or their families or anything about them. Maybe it wasn't just carnal, but it could never be anything more than that, either way.

Hermione, on the other hand, felt touched when she saw how much he was working himself about it.

'Ginny made hot chocolate. You should come inside and join us,' Hermione said at length.

He smiled and said he'd come in a minute.

When she was gone, Ron walked towards the back of the house and sat down on a small tree stump. He took a large helping of snow into his palms and splashed in on his face, hoping it would make everything go away.

The cold reminded him of her skin.

* * *

Pansy had never been more mortified and relieved at the same time to see the Hogwarts train arrive at platform 9 and ¾ .

She took out her golden necklace from underneath her sweater and displayed it for everyone to see. It had a blue centerpiece that was quite expensive. Her eyes sparkled with renewed excitement. She knew was going to walk into a pack of wolves, but she had never felt so alive before.

Her eyes kept roaming almost unconsciously for someone in the crowd. Deep down she knew who she was searching for and she pressed one of her palms to her eyes to chase the shadow away.

* * *

Ron walked down the corridor, dragging his and Hermione's luggage behind him, as the girl walked before him, checking some items in her notebook. She had already put her Prefect badge on. Harry had found them a compartment and he, Ginny and Luna were already waiting for them.

'We'd better pop into the Prefects' compartment first, just to see if everyone's arrived. I'd like to give the Fifth Years their supervising tasks right away before the First Years get into trouble,' Hermione explained over her shoulder.

Ron agreed silently.

When they arrived in the Prefects' compartment, there were only four people there. Two Ravenclaws, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin.

Ron's eyes flew to hers in an instant, but Pansy was browsing a magazine and she barely looked up when the two Gryffindors walked in.

'Oh, good, at least someone's here,' Hermione said relieved. 'How was everyone's Christmas?'

She sat down next to Isabel Towers and Peter Mavis from Ravenclaw, while Sally Rickshaw from Gryffindor started talking about her trip to France.

Ron shuffled between Pansy and Mavis, eventually finding enough room so that his leg was unfortunately close to Pansy's.

She still refused to look at him even though it was quite obvious she had noticed him sitting down next to her.

Ron kept staring at her profile, lost in all the feelings he had bubbled up inside.

She was there, two inches away from him, she was there! After all this time, he could extend his hand and touch her! He could look at her and not feel she was just some shadow on the wall. He could even talk to -

'So, Granger, how did you and Ronnikins spend Christmas?' Pansy suddenly asked, putting the magazine down.

Hermione stopped mid-sentence and shot up instantly, her eyes widening. She coughed unceremoniously and told Pansy she was being ridiculous.

'Well, you two were together, weren't you?' she pressed, looking her down.

'That's none of your business, Parkinson.'

'You were so eager to ask about our Christmas, why can't we ask about yours?'

'You're obviously bent on making fun of us, so it's not pertinent.'

'Making fun? I merely assumed you two had finally made things official. Pity, I was hoping to be entertained.'

Ron clenched his fists.

'No, Parkinson, we're not going to snog for you if that's what keeps you entertained,' he spat in anger. 'So you can just take your stupid comments and – '

Pansy grinned slovenly. 'Ooh, I must've hit the right button. She hasn't snogged you yet, then, Weasel?'

'Please, both of you, stop talking about this!' Hermione intervened.

'No, she hasn't, Parkinson, as I'm sure she hasn't slept with anyone in the backseat of a car, either,' he said quietly.

Pansy paled suddenly and pressed her lips in a thin line.

'Is that so?' she asked, seething.

'Deny it if you can,' he muttered darkly.

Hermione looked confused between the two.

'Ron, stop encouraging her, please! Just let it go! You too, Pansy! Find other ways to occupy yourself.'

'Oh, I will, I'll find something else to do, since I'm not appreciated here,' Pansy said, recovering her colour. She got up and knocked Ron's leg out of her way.

Ron watched her leave, sinking further into himself. Why had he said that? How could he have said that? She had taunted him, she had mocked him and yet – he shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have.

'Ron, are you all right?' Hermione asked concerned.

'Yeah, I'm…' he trailed off, but didn't answer. He just turned towards the window and swallowed a groan.


End file.
